[ He's about to call her out on that, to outright question how he would figure something so out of the realm of his knowledge out, but that's not ... quite true either, is it?
Something about it, the name and the way that Clarisse says it, feels familiar in a way that he can't explain. It makes no sense. But there's time to question her, thoroughly, later, to ask if these are stories she'd heard or something she was making up herself. He wonders if maybe some of his patrons have started to craft stories about him as a mortal, perhaps to make him seem more relatable.
All manner of reasoning wants to spin a tale in his head but he looks between Clarisse and the island of turtles, before finally landing his gaze on the chariot nestled in a clearing. He can hear the crashing of waves nearby, but he's never been more focused on something so wholly unrelated to the ocean until now.
It looks ... familiar.
He reluctantly turns to look at Clarisse like he's on the cusp of remembering why this thing is so familiar but she's waiting for him to respond. His mind is reeling, and he's seeing plain as day what is obviously an important item to Clarisse.
It occurs to him then that this could be a trick, perhaps Clarisse isn't Clarisse at all but some other nefarious god with shapeshifting abilities trying to lure him into a trap. It occurs to him that taking him all the way out here to this small, remote little island could be a part of that plan. He could (should) challenge her to fight right now to prove that she's Clarisse and not an imposter, because his friend has always had a very distinct, signature fighting style; the spark that could ignite his godlike ire is never far away these days. (And it would be right for trying to trick the Herald of Telluric Springs.)
But he finds that he doesn't want to do it.
He shakes his head. ]
You're speaking in riddles. Who are Phobos and Deimos? [ The names on his tongue feel familiar too, like he should know who they are even if he's certain he's never heard of them before. ] What is this really about?
no subject
Something about it, the name and the way that Clarisse says it, feels familiar in a way that he can't explain. It makes no sense. But there's time to question her, thoroughly, later, to ask if these are stories she'd heard or something she was making up herself. He wonders if maybe some of his patrons have started to craft stories about him as a mortal, perhaps to make him seem more relatable.
All manner of reasoning wants to spin a tale in his head but he looks between Clarisse and the island of turtles, before finally landing his gaze on the chariot nestled in a clearing. He can hear the crashing of waves nearby, but he's never been more focused on something so wholly unrelated to the ocean until now.
It looks ... familiar.
He reluctantly turns to look at Clarisse like he's on the cusp of remembering why this thing is so familiar but she's waiting for him to respond. His mind is reeling, and he's seeing plain as day what is obviously an important item to Clarisse.
It occurs to him then that this could be a trick, perhaps Clarisse isn't Clarisse at all but some other nefarious god with shapeshifting abilities trying to lure him into a trap. It occurs to him that taking him all the way out here to this small, remote little island could be a part of that plan. He could (should) challenge her to fight right now to prove that she's Clarisse and not an imposter, because his friend has always had a very distinct, signature fighting style; the spark that could ignite his godlike ire is never far away these days. (And it would be right for trying to trick the Herald of Telluric Springs.)
But he finds that he doesn't want to do it.
He shakes his head. ]
You're speaking in riddles. Who are Phobos and Deimos? [ The names on his tongue feel familiar too, like he should know who they are even if he's certain he's never heard of them before. ] What is this really about?